


Beyond the Moon

by lookingforpaperstars



Series: New Beginnings [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Post-War, Second Chance at Love, Some angst, remione - Freeform, remus makes a comeback, second chance at happiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26084626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforpaperstars/pseuds/lookingforpaperstars
Summary: Remus reaches the end of the war relatively unscathed, and a dear old friend prompts him "to cast beyond the moon", thus inspiring him to consider a multitude of unlikely possibilities. Hermione has decided to reach for the stars and give herself a second chance at the future she always dreamed of. What cosmic activity will occur when these two friends should happen upon each other once more?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin
Series: New Beginnings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893811
Kudos: 12





	Beyond the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written by two people, each writing a different POV. Though different to fics I've uploaded in the past, it seemed remarkably fitting to write one with my wife! I hope you all enjoy.

**10th August 1998**

**Remus**

  
The modest front room of Lupin cottage was once a warm and welcoming place to unwind. Now, it was dark and derelict. Until today. Where there weren’t bookshelves, the peeling floral-patterned walls were crowded with framed family photographs, some of which moved. A large grandfather clock stood proudly in one corner, its once steadily clunking pendulum now dormant. Many years ago, that very clock had harboured one particularly stubborn boggart. In the centre of the space stood a worn two-seater sofa with dainty pink cushions that looked like plump marshmallows, and white protective cloths coated its backs and arms. Beside it stood a high-backed armchair with matching cushions and covers. In front of the seating arrangement stood mahogany nesting tables complete with lace-doilies, and finally a small fireplace. The room smelled of rose-scented soap, a favourite of the late Hope Lupin. The man who had just entered the space breathed in the heady scent and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He couldn’t relax in here just yet. Especially with all the familiar eyes smiling at him from two of the four walls. Long legs took him briskly to the far window and he tugged the heavy curtains open, allowing sunlight to shine beams into the room which illuminated the golden dust that tired feet had kicked up. He quickly escaped the space before ancient memories threatened to resurface, busying himself in the kitchen across the hallway. 

Again, nothing seemed to have changed here either. This room was much larger and brighter, for the curtains were never drawn. A long countertop on the left took sad eyes from the door to the far wall, it then lined the far wall where large windows with diamond shaped leading showed off the view of the blue haze of Yorkshire hills that stretched beyond. Unlike the front room, the kitchen was much more welcoming, devoid of too many memories, and overall much less claustrophobic. As Remus stepped through the threshold, he bowed his head so as not to hit the doorframe, his exhausted muscles remembering the necessity that comes with growing up in cottages. The fiery red terracotta flooring click-clacked under weathered brown brogues as Remus made his way past the dining table and towards the kettle near the sink at the back of the kitchen. The kettle was electronic, and he frowned as he thought about using muggle technology after so long relying on his wand. He didn't fancy using magic with it; his mother never liked it when it came to tea making. After a few minutes of fumbling, it was soon boiling as he reached to inspect the contents of the cupboards that lined the walls. Pouring himself some tea in a chipped teacup, he allowed himself to gaze out into the cottage gardens.

That’s when he startled. Right at the bottom of the overgrown lawn perched on the garden wall was a grey tabby cat. No sooner had he noticed, however, when the cat had vanished down into the grass. The only way of knowing that the cat was approaching was the tell-tale sea of overgrown fronds swishing against the current of wind-induced waves of grass. The tabby emerged and shook its coat in mild irritation of having to weave through such wild squalor, then peered up at him again. Remus could now see the distinct markings, and his heart sped. He had a visitor!  
  
Opening the front door, Remus stood to the side to allow her entry, tail swooshing to the left and right as she padded over the worn doormat. 

“Hello, Minerva,” He said mildly, closing the door behind him and turning to find she had already transfigured herself back to her human form. Minerva McGonagall was in long robes of a deep emerald green, her greying hair pulled meticulously tightly into a bun, which, Remus noticed with a smirk, had a few blades of grass and twigs now tainting her overall professional manner. The new Headmistress of Hogwarts smiled her greeting, brushing away the stray debris and taking in her surroundings.

“How have you been, Remus?” She asked, making her way into the kitchen. 

The last time Minerva had been here, it was to pay her respects. She knew how he had once felt for Tonks -- his growing bond with her dissolving into further pain when she announced her engagement to someone else -- and she offered a rare stroke of empathy when Remus then also lost his father, Lyall last month. Fairly accustomed to her visits as he was, Remus thought with a jolt, that no one else had died to his knowledge, had they? His mind cast through the remaining good people in his life. He thought of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He thought of Kingsley and Tonks and the Weasleys.

“Remus?” Minerva pressed. She was helping herself to the freshly brewed tea, looking thankful that she didn’t have to grapple with a muggle kettle. Remus pulled out a chair and breathed through clenched teeth as he eased himself down. His muscles hurt terribly after the full moon two days ago. Today was the first he had managed to move around a bit. He was suffering greatly without Wolfsbane (though he tried not to show it).

“Yes, sorry. I’ve been alright—managing.” He gave her a weak smile as she brought her cup and his to the table, seating herself opposite him.

“Then why do you look so apprehensive. I can assure you nobody else has died, Remus.” She scolded. He ran a hand through his light brown hair flecked with grey and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“I guess one gets used to it, even though the battle is over…” He trailed off and they eyed each other for they both knew that this wasn’t strictly true.

Yes, the battle was over. Yes, Voldemort was dead, as were many of his followers. But some faithfuls still lurked in the shadows, and there was the ministry that was still in total disarray after the years of corruption. Then there was Hogwarts…

“How is the clean up going at the school?” Remus asked with wide, searching eyes. The witch adjusted her spectacles with a frown and relaxed a little into her chair.

“It’s going fairly well,” she sniffed, “Severus has been proving very useful; having had a lot of experience with dark magic he has been able to reverse some of the more dark curses that have hit the building in places that Filius and I have had difficulty with. Like the curse that nearly killed Fred that rebounded and has been making walls crumble on the third floor no matter the strength of the repairing charms. The bridge is rebuilt, as is the library and greenhouses,” they drank some of their tea, china clinking in saucers as she continued with a smack of her thin lips, “I’m confident all will be ready in time for the new term.” 

Remus took in the rest of her updates about the school. How they were taking the opportunity to revamp some of the areas while they were cleaning up; new shipments of books for the library based on all of the latest discoveries that the war had revealed amongst the changes. They discussed the irony of how the devastating effects of war was often found to be an opening to historical discoveries throughout time—especially in the wizarding world. Remus realised that he was greatly missing the company of a fellow intellect, and found himself having a pleasant catch up with his former professor, ex colleague, and friend. Just as his heart was beginning to swell with comfort and happiness at this epiphany, however, his worry-free happiness was soon cut short and he was left feeling like someone had taken away his proverbial ice cream. Minerva had moved on to school posts. She had made several staffing decisions to make up for the lacking in staffing after the deaths of the battle, and while her choices so far for each post Remus had agreed with, now, she was discussing Severus. 

“I suspect that he will soon approach me for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. And that just will not do.” She was saying stiffly. Her nose was upturned and her bony fingers clutching her tea cup tightly. 

Remus was frowning. 

“I would have thought him an excellent choice, Minerva. His expanse of knowledge is proven to be—”

“No,” she cut him off, giving him a withering look, “he’s due to go to trial in just over two weeks time for being a supposed Death Eater. I can’t formally employ him. At least not until he is proven a hero rather than villain. I need someone else.”

“Oh! Of course, the trials. But I thought he had been found innocent?” The wizard reasoned. 

“Yes, to the Order, but that does not mean he’s innocent to the Ministry, who have been taking ever more excessive steps to prove that they are clear of corruption. He’s due at his trial at 9 o’clock in the morning on the 26th of August. There is no way of knowing whether he will be proven innocent. The main threads of evidence they are working with is his killing of Dumbledore, and the betrayal of information leading to Moody’s murder and George’s injury.”

Remus’ chest panged with pain at the memories. Hearing with shock of who had killed Dumbledore and being outraged at such a devastating display of disloyalty. He recalled how long it had taken him to accept that Severus was always on their side and was acting on Albus’ orders the entire time. It was only when Harry, Professor Snape’s least liked student—and most unlikely to back him up out of his usual tendency to allow hatred to cloud his judgement—had convinced him that he had been working for the Order the entire time. He had even been trying to save Remus’ life from the curse of a Death Eater when George’s ear had been accidentally severed in The Battle of the Seven Potters.

Remus pulled his wand from his robes and flicked it in the direction of the teapot, milk and sugar, casting a wordless seize and pull charm. The arcing rope of orange light summoned the teaware over to their table for refills as Professor McGonagall gave him a very pointed look. Clueless, he felt his brow quirk upwards at her piercing blue eyes.

“I have an offer for you, Remus. I do hope you accept as in my opinion no one else has ever been as well-equipped or talented in the position as you. I would like you to reconsider the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at the school. Your resignation was accepted by Dumbledore in 1993, but I believe it was a mistake to let you go.”

McGonagall was still speaking, but whatever she was saying, nothing else was going in. She was offering him his job back at the school? Was she being serious? The mistakes of working so closely to children with his condition were almost proven to be fatal the first time. While he was beside himself with happiness the first time he got the position, this time was the opposite. He felt cold dread creeping into his system, making his insides squirm as the witch opposite him regarded him. He moved to pour a fresh cup of black tea, using the distraction to avert his eyes. He knew she wouldn’t dare try to read his thoughts, for he was a gifted legilimens—but this didn’t stop him from being shy of her intimidating stare.

“I don’t know if you should trust me, Minerva,” he sighed down at his chipped cup, “you know what I am, as will many if not all of the students and indeed their parents. I cannot risk it, I’m sorry. While I am truly flattered, I can’t accept your offer.” As soon as he had said the words, a sickening regret clawed around his heart, but he had to refuse. His throat was tight, his tongue heavy in his dry mouth as he swallowed. The year when he taught at Hogwarts had been the best and healthiest he had felt since he attended the school as a pupil, but he would not be able to live with himself if he ever slipped up again. A surge of surprise was clenching his diaphragm as he realised that Minerva had been willing to overlook this huge detail. She was quiet for a moment, appearing to consider his response.

“I thought you’d say something of the sort.” She replied, her voice laced with uncharacteristic concern.

They finished their tea together after he changed the subject, discussing the Ministry and how some of the young Order members were doing after the end of the War. Professor McGonagall left him at his door with a parting message, that should he change his mind, he would simply owl her, or drop by her office any time. As the sun set on the valleys of the Yorkshire countryside, Remus returned to the quiet of his decrepit cottage, filled with regret after rejecting such an offer beginning to combat his will to keep people safe from him.

  
———oOo———

_“Reparo”_

Two weeks later, Remus was repairing his rickety staircase when he heard a tapping on a window somewhere towards the front of the house. Sauntering through the house to seek out the source of the sound, he saw a large brown owl with deep black eyes gazing at him on the outside ledge of the kitchen window, its large black beak clacking against the glass. He rushed over, his muscles now much more sprightly after a long rest, allowing the impressive bird into his home with careful dexterity. It landed gracefully atop his counter and stuck its leg out to reveal a rather thick and hefty looking envelope with green inked handwriting bearing his name. It was nice to be contacted without having to use Potterwatch, this being his first letter in what felt like years. Curiosity building, he took the letter to his table and allowed the bird to snack on the remains of his meagre breakfast beside him while he broke the seal. Green eyes flitted quickly across the parchment.

_  
“Dear Remus,_

_Per our discussion two weeks ago, I would like to offer the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher once again. I regret to admit that it has been difficult to search for a worthy candidate, and I must impress now the precautions I have undertaken to ensure your comfort and assurances while working at the school. You will have access to Wolfsbane, and as much time off as you need for your monthly transformations. I have contacted your friend the recently elected Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who throughout the summer has been making a lot of changes to the rules and restrictions that came with the anti-werewolf legislation set up by that toad of a woman in 1993. While it has been made difficult by many who still show support of her beliefs, Kingsley has personally recommended you for the position. His letter should be with you shortly._

_With his personal recommendations in hand, I have also taken the opportunity to write to the parents of the pupils you will be teaching, telling them of who you are. Your achievements have much outweighed the bigotry and hatred that plagued the years passed. Many parents know who you are and expressed their honour of the idea of having such a good and experienced man teach their children, and much have reasoned that after the evils of the war, there are much worse things to be than a werewolf. I have enclosed copies of letters from parents who wished to pass on their approval of you taking up the position._

_Please respond as soon as possible_ — _before the 26th August, as I couldn’t bear the idea of giving the position to a less worthy individual.  
  
_

_Yours Sincerely,_ _  
__  
__Minerva McGonagall_  
Headmistress  
O.M. (First Class)

_PS. I will also need someone to become the new Head of Gryffindor house in my place. You will be brilliant at it and there is a significant pay increase.”_

After that, at least two dozen or so letters fell from the envelope onto his table to his astonished smile. He read them with growing fervor, consuming their compliments in confoundment. Some admirers called him noble, others called him brave and brilliant. Tears began to leak from rapidly blinking eyes as he read one letter after another, each somehow impossibly more encouraging and accepting than the last. One, very long letter from Molly Weasley expressed her dearest wishes for him to embrace his newfound acceptance, as a first step towards proving to everyone that you can still be a good person despite suffering with the effects of lycanthropy. He felt his wet cheeks flush with warmth as he read them all, when a smart owl fluttered through the open window to land silently beside him. A rather official looking scroll and letter was fastened to this owl’s leg, and when Remus opened them both, he found himself looking in disbelief at his Order of Merlin, first class, for his efforts and sacrifices in the war. The kitchen filled with the sounds of low whimpers and sniffs for several minutes.

Remus got up suddenly from his chair with his jaw set, startling the owls who sent him irritated squawks in reply to his apologies. His hands shook slightly as he gripped the parchment of his award and Molly’s letter. The wizard had some letters to write, and his old suitcase to pack.


End file.
